Elemental

The elements.

What wonderful treats they bring the outdoor runner, biker, walker, etc. this time of year.

Frozen toes, fingers, snot.....to name a few.

I know, I know, Atlanta is in the deep South. We're supposed to be warm, and welcoming.

Tell that to my neck gater. Poor thing's exhausted from all the use she's gotten this year. Once upon a time, I'd break her out like the good wine, once in a blue moon.

Now, it is every stinking run.

I am not complaining though...I like the elements.

I like the heat. I like the freezing cold. I like running in the rain. In the snow....

Why? 'Cause it makes me feel tough. And I am not tough.

At heart, at my core? A wuss, A scardey cat wuss who'd prefer sunny and seventy, thankyouverymuch.

The elements make me feel like the badass I am not.

I take my badass where I can get it...even if it means 8 miles in freezing rain.

"Is "poopy" an adjective?"

...and other google queries.

These are the questions you find yourself asking when playing madlibs with a 5 year old.

I appreciate the lack of judgement, google.

Two things. (1) It was not her suggestion for the adjective. (It was mine. I was going for the easy laugh.)
(2) We had to google it because Mike didn't think it was an adjective. (Wrong!)

We search for a lot of random things on the internets.

Were their children on the Mayflower? (E wanted to know. And yes, there were.)

What is the difference between the KSwiss Kona and the KSwiss Kona-C? (All me there. There's none, just looks, according to someone on a random forum. Momma needs new running shoes and zappos was all out of my faves, the Konas.)

How many calories in a clementine? (Mike. He's apparently counting calories.)

What the hell this says about us, I have no idea, perhaps we are weight conscious, fecal oriented, history buffs who enjoy a run now and then?

Okay, sure.

Tis the season

It is not my fault if this post makes zero sense and is full of typos.

I am currently under two year old attack. She's trying to lure me into a wrestling match by hitting me with a blanket and head butting me. Okay, she's stopped the attack to show me the "boogie" on her hand, and ugh, now she wiped it on my shirt. Yes, MY shirt, not her shirt.

Anyone want a hug?

If you don't get covered in snot, then can offer you one of the many germs that my children carry?

I am sure my shirt has them in spades. (Being covered in boogers and all.)

Yes, tis the season for being sick. The girls, yes, of course. There has to be a patient Zero. But, I still catch everyfreakingthing that they bring home from school. Sinus infection, stomach flu, fifths disease...check. Check. And check. (And not just me this year, my filthy animals have successfully infected my mom, brother in law, each other, and the contractor working for my mom so far.) Do not talk to us until April. I promise it is a bad idea.

Cobbling together any consistency in my running has been um, challenging so far this winter. (It's not even technically winter yet, is it?)

Oof.

Life Lessons

#68 -- Teaching yourself to read.

No big deal. Just find a quiet, sunny place and an Elmo book. All set.

#154 -- The Armpit Fart.

What else are daddies for?

The Voice

I've been hearing a few lately.

The one in my head. More about that later....

And the one coming from the two year old.

It sounds like a combination of a Charlie Brown Adult and a petulant teenager imitating their parents behind their backs. Mike tells me that Alice is imitating me. That my voice sounds like that. (It doesn't.) Mike thinks he funny. (He is.) But, not nearly as funny as Alice is when she does "the voice".

So, Alice is funny and bad (in the best way possible, of course.) She was just reprimanded for spitting on the floor, twice and enjoys gargling and fake burping as loud as she possibly can, in public. My apologies to my fellow Target shoppers.

While Alice is busy being a clown, Ella is rocking kindergarten. Rocking it!

After an adjustment period, filled with lots of tears and only one full-on-the-floor-in-school-tantrum (the horror of that is seared in my brain forever. Her teachers had to literally pull her arms from my legs. Good times.) After a few short months, she is loving school. Loves her friends, loves music class, loves the bus, her teachers, the routine. I am so proud of her. It is like school matured her, in the best possible way, and she's just taking off there. Go Ella.

As far as the voices that I am hearing, or more specifically, the voices I am not hearing anymore.

You know, the voice that tells me that doing Gulf Coast is a great idea. That triathlon is really important. The my workouts are waaay up there on the priority list for the day, week, month, year. That 5am workouts are what needs to be done. The one that repeats swimbikerun, swimbikerun, swimbikerun.

Well, I haven't heard them in a while.

I didn't know why. I missed those voices, then I didn't, then I wondered why I didn't miss them. Then, I just tried to chill. (I am not so good at that.)

Then I started to hear new ones.

Ones that said, "You can't force it". That "maybe the desire will come back, maybe not." One said "take tennis lessons. You love tennis." So I did. Another one said "do the Disney Princess Half Marathon" (That one was definitely Ella's.) So, I signed up. One that said "want to do a 50 miler with me?" (Okay, that wasn't in my head, it was from my friend, Michelle). I said hells no, but hmm...maybe a 50k. THAT actually sounds like fun.

I have to say, it's been pretty nice.

Our Christmas card pic taken by awesome photographer, Andrea Mages....thanks, Andrea!

Historic Roswell 5k Race Report

So, yeah, been off blogging for almost another month...but a silly, little 5k race report's got me back on the ball. Yay for 5k's!

I love this race. Did it back in 2008. It was my first race post Alice. I think I ran around 22:30 or so, I can't really remember. What I do remember from that race was getting the "pukes" (not actually puking, but feeling like it was coming at any second. Yeah, I made that up.) around mile 1.5, and having to breastfeed A in the middle of a football field during the awards ceremony. I really class a race up. ;)

No pukes this race. (Always makes me think I didn't go hard enough!) Just a fun day with no real expectations. (Okay, I was not going to be happy if I went over 20 minutes.) I didn't think under 20 was possible today. I've been running, a lot, just not really focused running. Just 5 miles here, 8 miles there. Some speedwork, some trails, kind of whatever feels good on the day. (

(This low pressure schedule is working for me now, but I can tell I am getting antsy. Antsy for a goal. FIN-A-FREAKING-LY! I will keep pretending I am a normal person for a while, but I think once the holidays are over I am going to want to get back at it. Woo hoo. I think just running for now though...)

Anyway...the 5k. I ran, I hurt, the scenery was pretty, the course was a course I have run since I was 19 (needless to say, I knew where the hills were), great friends were there to cheer (thanks Bonnie, Meghan, Noah, Madeline and Patrick!), I finished 3rd overall female. And guess where I finished age group? 3rd. Boo hiss for stacked 30-34 year old AG. :) 20:50, eh, not bad, not great.

I guess I actually finished 2nd AG, since 1st went first overall, but I scooted out of there and ran up to watch the parade that follows the race with friends.

Fun day. Fun race. Love the low pressure stuff. For now....:)

Muscle Memory

Sometimes I wish my muscles would just forget.

Forget how fast the last race, interval, mile, long run, was.
Forget that I used to do a heck of a lot more training.
Forget the word "just" in front of "half marathon training".

'Cause remembering just makes it all really no fun.

Makes me want to not race. (I can't beat my old times. I don't know if I can (more like want to) hurt for that long anymore.)

Makes me wonder if the fire will ever come back. (Where the heck did it go?)

Did pushing, all the time, striving for some goal, some time, some AG finish push the point of all this so far away that I can't see it anymore?

(Point being. THIS IS FUN.)

I love to run (and bikeandswim).

It makes me feel good. Nope, it makes me feel GREAT. Alive. Happy. Relaxed. Makes me feel like me. Like my best me.

A solo, early fall, morning run while both girls were in school had me remembering today.

A good muscle memory. Time to make some more...

Don't mess with Ella

An admittedly weak update after a long break. Here's the gist.

Kindergarten started. My heart broke. I missed E. She missed me. And cried in the bathroom about it, daily, for a few weeks (her, not me. I didn't attempt to hide my tears). Settling in now...everyone. She likes school, which is great.

Alice is breathing well again after an ER trip last night. Damn croup. She's all 'roided up like a guido from Jersey Shore and breathing much easier now. Longest 8 miles to that hospital, ever.

That's all I've got after 4 hours of sleep. On the floor of A's room. Oof.

Dance Party USA

Does anyone else remember rushing off the bus in high school, forgetting about homework, repainting their nails (freshman year, I preferred a new color. Every day. Oy.), planting themselves in front of their TV, turning on the USA network and cracking up at this show? Wondering where these people come from?? And how is it possible to have hair that big?

Just me? (And my sister. She was right there with me.)

Maybe it was a New Jersey thing. Dance Party was filmed in Camden, NJ. Proud to say.

I like a dance party. Still do. We have them at our house fairly often. E and Allie can break it down like nobody's business. Ella's future band has a name already. "Shake Your Fanny". R&B, I am guessing.

And Alice? She knows the words to "Single Ladies". Already. And requests it over, and over. She walks up to the ipod docking station and yells at me. "I WANNA DANCE!". Um, okay.

Mike's birthday was Friday and instead of the "new belt" that Ella suggested for him, I decided to give him a garage makeover. We've always wanted to be the super neat and clean and uber organized garage people, but we're just not. UNTIL NOW....

New lights, blinds, paint, flooring and it is immaculate. I love it.

So did Mike, and now instead of one car fitting into our three car garage, we can actually fit two. We broke the "Garage-mahal" as Mike is calling it, in last night with what else? A dance party.


I have to commend Mike on his robot in this shot. He is a serious robot, apparently.


Ella favors running around as fast as she can as a dance style. Me? Jumping. A lot.

It's not my fault...

...that I have not posted for almost a month.

A month.

Wow. Time flies. (And that is the last thing I want it do this summer. I want it to crawl. Not fly.)

But, anyway, it's not my fault. Someone needs to watch the new seasons of "Jersey Shore", "Mad Men", "Boston Med". And Bravo. All of Bravo. If I don't. Who will? ;)

So, what's been going on?


Since I have failed at freezing time, or making regressing Ella to her 3 year old state, we've been getting ready to embrace the inevitable. Kindergarten. (Did you hear that? My heart just sank. Thump.) She starts in two weeks. She's excited and ready, and I am, too, for her. Just sad for me and Alice and the feeling that I can't shake. That I am losing my baby. :( We are going to miss her. A lot. Especially Alice. E went to camp a few weeks ago and left a screaming, crying sister in her wake, yelling "I want Ella home!". Me, too, Allie, me, too. I know this is normal and I know it is healthy and I know it is good. None of this makes it any easier. Or makes me want to cry less thinking about it.


My other baby turned two. Wow. It is hard for me to believe it has only been two years since we had that nutjob. I honestly have to think very hard about what our life was life before two. (And very, very hard to remember what the hell we ever did before we had E. Oh yeah, nap and sleep in.) Alice continues to grow in her sassiness, self confidence, and Ella-emulation every day. Thankfully she has yet to lose (any) of her baby chub, so the feeling of holding that soft, good smelling body of hers is still available whenever I want it.

And me? Been running a lot. Biking a little and swimming none. The carpal boss pain on my wrist comes and goes and when it comes, it hurts like a mother and is triggered by who knows what? Here one day. Gone the next week. Then back again. Running is the only thing that I can count on to reliably do. Aha, but there's a catch. This old, inflexible body of mine is not so used to running 6 times a week. These legs are used to breaks. Not the daily grind of run, run, run. My piriformus is pissed and acting out. Here's to hoping a little ART and TLC will stop what I like to refer to as "drop leg" on my long runs.

I've signed up for tennis lessons and will be playing in a fall soccer league which I am pumped about. I love that I am not worried about hurting myself for a race with other sports or that I will be tired for xx workout the next day or some other reason. The half marathon training I am now doing is really just for a goal and to keep me in shape, if I can't race a half...I don't really care. I can't wait for some fun on the field and the courts.

Lobsterfest in Indiana at my brother's lake house. The cool (relative) weather was worth the 21 hours in the car with the girls. Sort of.



Oof, this is a lot of work. Note to self, update more often.

Summer thus far...

A photo-essay. (AKA the lazy mom's blog post).

You would think that all that time I gained by not swimming and biking umpteen (okay, realistically more like ump-ten or eleven, maybe ump-twelve) hours a week, I'd have more time for nobler pursuits, i.e., documenting my children's fleeting youth.

Not so much.

Not today. Or tomorrow.
Not really that kind of mom. Time to accept it now, girls. ;)

Our summer has been spent....

Fishing. (I had taken E before with her pole, but no hook on the end. Seriously? I am going to de-hook a fish? Me? I'd rather have a hook in my mouth than touch a fish, there. Ugh. I don't think so. Thankfully, dad and Pop Pop were there to do the dirty work.)



Hiking.

Yes, hiking is age appropriate for the not-yet-two age set. Exhibit A (and B), Alice and her bud, Hall. All you need are a few sippy cups and cankles and you're all set.


Jumping.

Yes, that is a bounce house. And yes, it is inside. And, yes, I agree. We are nuts.


Cleaning the garage.
In wigs. And helmets, of course.


Spending time with family...
by turning them into my own personal curtain making (and hanging) sweatshop.


I did help. All sweatshops need a foreman.

Earning a little cash...
the dollar in E's (money grubbing) little hand is from selling Mike the beer that is in his hand. A beer from our fridge. Smart kid. She also sold my dad a picture she drew of a "spider chicken". Feel free to contact me directly if you would like to buy one for your own home. No home is complete without a spider chicken picture to warm up any space.

My mom is still toiling away in the background. She knows the foreman doesn't take too kindly to laziness. (Myself EXcluded, of course.)

Imitating.
This is Alice. Next to Ella. Doing exactly what Ella does, says, goes, wears, thinks. All day long. Ella hurts her hand and cries and points to said hand. Two seconds later, the little brown haired Ella clone is doing the same thing. It is so cute, it breaks my heart how much Allie is going to miss E when she's at school in a few months. She literally won't know what to do.

Bad timing...

...as in, what kind of poor internal clock do I have that decides in mid-June/early July Georgia to become (just a) runner?

The kids are home. All day. Every day. (Which is actually really awesome and fun. Just doesn't leave a lot of free training time for me...part of the reason tris are on the back burner for now. That and the fact that you couldn't pay me enough to get up at 5:00am to flounder in the pool. That alarm gets little to no use in the summer. The Alice alarm is much more reliable. 5-5:30am "MAMA!" "MAMA!")

The treadmill is an option, although not a great one. It's so freaking boring, all I can do is intervals. They make the "so freaking boring" treadmill time go by a little faster since they're fun. I am a little sick that way. I love intervals. My legs? Not so much.

Early mornings are out, Mike leaves for work too early to get in anything before light. Have I mentioned I am scared of the dark?

After dinner is out. Tried that. Had to make an emergency call to Mike, "come get me, NOW. Like, NOW, NOW, NOW" He found me a mile from home, knock kneed walking, sweating (not from the run), complaining that there was nowhere, NOWHERE to go in our neighborhood. Ella inquired from the backseat, "Mommy, do you have to poop? Like, really bad?"

So, afternoons it is. Alice is napping. The trusty tready is ready. The World Cup is on. Ella is fully immersed in "Phineas and Ferb". We're getting it done.

Two days a week, I have a reprieve. The babysitter comes! (Whoo Hoo! Let's go running! Love this!) At 2. (Holy #@$%, I think I am literally cooking from the inside out right now. Why are tracks black? I think I can hide underneath the concession stand in the shade for my rest interval. I wish I had my early 90's eyebrows right now, these plucked, waxed, tweezed little suckers are NOT keeping these buckets of sweat out of my eyes!)

Getting it done. Yet, still whining about the heat.

This is what seven miles at starting at 2:30 looks like...not pretty.

Happy Father's Day.

A Vacation

We had our family one last week in Seagrove, Fl. Great time. I love it. Love, love, love it down there. We were lucky enough to not have any oil, at all, on the beaches, in the water, etc. I pray it stays that way....

Every time I got into the emerald green waters I was so happy to be there, but at the same time sad, thinking, "is this the last time?" "Will this be closed tomorrow?" "When is the oil coming?" Stinking, stupid, careless BP.

I spend the following weeks after we get home scouring realtor.com for beach houses. Like we're going to get one, like it is even a remote possibility...still I search. One day, I will call the beach my home. A girl can dream, can't she?

In addition to our beach vacation, it appears (I say this like it just crept up on me. It didn't. Or I have not thought about it, a lot. I have.) I am taking a vacation from triathlon.

I've been on vacation from the bike since last week and the swim and I seem to be enjoying a nice long 3 week break. I've decided not to race Irongirls next weekend.

I need it.

I don't even miss it. Yet. I want to miss it. I just don't. I want to want to race. But, I don't. The fire is out. I hope it comes back. But, I am happy where I am.

Running. A lot.

Racing 5 and 10k's. And throwing in a half when it cools off.

It is fun. I like to run. And it doesn't hurt. Biking and swimming hurt my wrist. A lot. (Running actually does sometimes, too, but much less than the other two.)

Has anyone ever felt this way and come back with a fire for triathlon? I hope I do, but it seems so far away right now...which is fine. Just curious.

Vaca

Fives

This is a two part post revolving around the big number five.

Referring to E's years and kilometers ran as fast as possible (yet still not fast enough).

So, my baby. My little Ella Ann is five. It is all coming, kindergarten, sleep overs, being embarrassed by her parents, driving, college, marriage, wha....deep breath. Five is really a landmark birthday, at least for E it is.

"Mom, I can do that. I am five now. NOT two, NOT 4." (Duh.) The "duh" is silent, but implied.

She's my heart. Love that crazy, curly haired, enthusiastic, monkey that she is.


And the other five?

The second part of this post should be titled "The elusive 19" or "How to not run even splits (when you are trying to do just that)".

So, I ran a local 5k with some neighborhood friends on Saturday. Save our Skin 5k. I've been trying for years, years to get under 20 minutes in a 5k. (I did once, but the course measured 2.86. Damn you, Garmin. Ignorance is bliss.) I've been close 20:09, but never gotten there. I always try though.

6:26

That's what I need to run. Just hang on to 6:20s.

First mile. 6:16. (Nice, money in the bank. Got a few seconds to spare here.)

Second mile. Wow. This is really almost completely an uphill mile. This is not easy anymore. ow. ow. ow. 6:48

Third mile. Just hang on. Hang on. Use Angela's mantra, she's super fast. Try it. "light and fast, light and fast". ugh. 6:45, not quite Angela's kind of fast.

The finish was two really hard right hand turns after the 3 mile marker. I pass a girl ahead of me at about 2.5 miles and just knew she let me pass her so she could chase me down and pass me right at the end. I had a gut feeling.

But, I didn't want to slow down to her pace and hang back (plus I didn't know what kind of kick I might have.) At 3 miles, I check back and she's closer and hauling to try to catch me. (I knew her face, she does tri's and knew she was in my AG. We were battling for 3rd OA) We make the first hard right...she's closer. I am DIGGING in here, there's no way she's beating me. DIGGING IN. Less than .1 left and we're both in a full out ugly sprint to finish. Right turn two steps ahead....the guy ahead of both of us won't let me by. I step right, I will fall into the curb, I step left I hit him. I hit him. Yelled, "COME ON!!!! MOVE!!!". This little misstep slows me down, I get caught....we finish exactly together.

The girl was really cool, we hugged and slapped hands and introduced ourselves. Really fun to fight that hard, really fun to leave it all out there. No sub-20 today (20:26), but happy with the effort.

Tied for 3rd OA and 1st AG. (I was bummed since the race actually had me as second to her. No chips and she just happened to hand in her tag first.)

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

Remember these essays assigned on the first day back to school?

When these were actual assignments, I tried my damndest to make sandwich artistry, sub par waitressing, pool lounging, and running around the soccer field sweating sound somewhat ambitious.

They weren't.

And my liberal use of SAT words probably didn't fool any of my teachers either.

Well, the first day of summer starts tomorrow in our house. Both girls are out of school. As a Jersey girl who graduated from high school on June 28th, this southern school calendar will always feel a bit off....ya'll.

What are we going to do with ourselves??

Who knows? I am sure in between exhausting the girls at the pool, the park, camps (for E), with friends, I will figure out if I want to race another tri this year.

I am only signed up for one more race (a sprint in June) and I haven't found myself searching out more.

Why?

I am not quite sure, a little burnt out? Maybe. Tired of my wrist (carpal boss) making 2/3 of triathlon extremely painful when the cortisone shots wear off? Sure. Excited just to race some 5k's and 10k's and break some PR's? Heck yeah. Ready to plan our summer days based on what time the pool/Monkey Joe's/the zoo opens and not how long Mommy has to swim/bike/run?

Definitely.

Gulf Coast Half Ironman Race Report

So, yeah, this is a little late, but here goes....

My goal for this race was to (a) finish smiling.

Period.

In January and February, that goal was not even on my radar. Smiling was for losers. Winners go super fast, kill 'em all, tear it up, take no prisoners, and a bunch of other equally aggressive metaphors.

Then, March, April and May came along with a move and yet another race where I raced while sick (ING Half Mary) and I was done.

Done with pretending I was Rambo. Done with 9 mile death marches. Done with puking on the side of the road. Done with 6 hours of bikerun on the weekends.

Done with all that, but just getting started on the "I just want to be a normal person" whines.

So, I changed my goals. I just wanted to enjoy Gulf Coast. I really love this race and I didn't want to end up hating it, myself, everyone out there, the sun, the wind, the heat just because I wasn't having a good day.

Goal accomplished. (5:35)

The Race...

Woke up race morning ready to go. Not super pumped to get out there, but not hand shakingly nervous like before IM. Feeling okay. Force down my bagel and bar and head down to the water which doesn't look like it is supposed to. It is supposed to look like glass when I am racing.

Swim --
While I was out there to enjoy myself, I did still work hard and wanted to race as hard as I could...I had some tentative time goals. I was hoping for around 33 for the swim.

41:52

Yes, I was off. More like OFF. This was the roughest swim I have ever done...the Gulf was super choppy. Lots of whitecapping waves. It quickly turned into survival mode, interspersed with lots of breaststroke, and some shaky positive self talk ("strong and steady, strong and steady, you can do this. F@#$!, F@#$*!, F#@!, I can't even see the buoys anymore!!!"). I was just happy to finish. Honestly. I was scared out there.



Bike --
Uneventful bike. It actually went by pretty quickly for me. I was so concentrated on making sure I hit my nutrition that the hours flew by. The bike at Gulf Coast is what you would expect, flat, fast and not much to look at. There was a pretty strong headwind a few times, but other than that, it was not bad. Way cooler than it is normally. I was hoping for under 2:50, but ended up exactly that.

Run --
My goal on the run was to aim for under 1:50. I was going to try to run 8's and see how that felt. Yeah, that felt good for about 4 miles and then it got harder and harder and the walks through the aid stations became slower and slower. Even though I ended up slower than I was hoping, I never felt broken down. I felt fairly strong throughout and these days will take that over the defeated shuffle that I had in my last half marathon. I think I could have pushed harder on the run, but it just wasn't in me today. I already knew that finishing under 5:20 (my hoped for time goal) was long gone in the Gulf. So, I just smiled and ran my 8:30s. Saw Mike, smiled even bigger and finished strong.

Pause, please.

I need a pause button.

Like, for example, when you're watching something really good, like "Nine By Design" or "The Hills" or "The City" for that matter and someone (ahem, Mike) tries to talk to you about who these people are and what is going on and who is on drugs? and why do you watch this?

Pause.

Excuse me, I am watching this. Can everyone (this means you, Mike) please quiet down (er, shut up) while Stephanie and KC have it out? This is important.

Ella is all about the pause button, too. She asks us to do it in the middle of rousing games of eye spy.

"Mommy, I have to go to the potty. Pause the game!"

or in bed..."Mommy, I have to feed Goldy (her goldfish). Pause the story!"

I need the pause button for Ella.

She's just getting too old. I registered her for kindergarten today.

What?!?

PAUSE!

A bus. Real school. Homework. Gone...all day? All week? Waahhh...

I am so not ready.

At a red light the other day, I saw one of those stickers on the back of the car in front of me with her school on it. A silly magnet set me off. I was immediately the weirdo, crying in her car, alone.

My baby is growing up and while that is all natural and good, I am not zen about it. I am not welcoming this with open arms. Rather with teary eyes and an armful of tissues and mandatory "cuddle time" with the almost 5 year old.

Pre school graduation is looming. Invest in Kleenex stock today. You'll thank me this fall.

Where, seriously, where did the time go?

It is what it is.

That is my new mantra.

We own two houses. Is the old one going to sell? WHEN is it going to sell?

IT IS WHAT IT IS.
(We actually have a contract this morning. Woot. Woot.)

My half IM is this weekend. Am I ready? What is the weather going to be like? Too hot? Am I going to have a 13 mile death march like I did at ING Half? Will I beat my time from 2007? Is my swim going to be faster? My bike? My run??

Eek.

(Deep breath)

IT IS WHAT IT IS.

Yes, I have worked hard for this race and yes, I really want to do well, BUT, the pressure I was putting on myself to constantly beat my old times and be more serious and hardcore was starting to make all of this really no fun.

And that is really what it is supposed to be.

Fun. A hobby. Time for myself. A way to be competitive again.

I love racing and I love triathlon. But, was starting to want to break up, or at least start seeing other people. The desire to have a "normal" weekend (sans 6 hours of run/bike) was getting strong.

And just mentally taking that pressure off, has me so excited to get down to Panama City and smile and enjoy the sun and enjoy the day and be happy and thankful to be racing. At the beach! Regardless of whether I am out there for 5:21 or 6 hours.

My goal for this race? To finish just like I did in 2007.

smiling my ass off.

IT IS WHAT IT IS.

Moving

(Exhale)

So, we moved. Last Friday.

Not to complain, (whine is probable more accurate, anyway) but my legs/feet hurt more after the move than a marathon. (Eh, that is probably a lie. Last full marathon was 2007 and I have a bad memory, but seriously, they were really sore.)

Moving is no joke. Even if it is only .6 miles.

Love the new house though. Well worth the effort (Zone 2, at the least. THE VERY LEAST, I tell ya.)

So now, after I search both houses for dental floss, my Garmin heart rate strap, Ella's school bag and one missing Dansko clog, hang 376 pictures against Mike's will ("Can we please NOT clutter this house up?" is falling on deaf ears), I AM TRAINING.

Gulf Coast in t minus 2 weeks. Time to focus less on moving furniture and more on moving my ass.

Let's ****ing GOOOO!

Starting to get excited....

Bye, bye old house.


These two jokers made themselves comfortable already.


Alice likes my new closet. Her new nickname is "Shoes". She's obsessed.


We moved in and E lost her first tooth. (Is she old enough? WHAT? Where's my baby?!?)


The cookie welcome basket from our new neighbors...mmmm. Making that race weight goal farther and farther away.

Still here....

...without Internet, mid-move and slowly losing (1)most everything in the house, (2)my patience and (3)my mind...therefore, the blog took an (extended) spring break hiatus.

Be back soon, once I wipe this dazed, slightly crazy look from my face. :)

Spring...in pictures

Since a picture is worth a thousand words and I am too lazy to write even close to that many, this is what this lazy blogger has been up to lately.

Ice skating. This smile is post falling-down-then-throwing-her-hat-on-the-ice, yelling "I QUIT!" x3. Good times.


Alice (with my dad) watched while working on perfecting the exact shade of tomato-red in her cheeks that makes it hard for me to believe that she doesn't have a fever. 98.6 every time.


Soccer! Go Wolverines. We consider soccer a success when (1)there are no tears from #12 (2)there is at least one dog at practice for Alice to squeal about.


Soccer happy dance.


I spend a lot of time making messes in the basement.


Hours on the trainer seems to have pissed off my wrist. A bone spur (aka carpal boss) is the reason for my newest fashion statement.

First outdoor ride of the season on the books for tomorrow. Woo hoo!

Picnic time.



I think that was at least 1543 words.

Doubt

The nasty little bugger crawled in my ear this weekend.

That was a bad race you had there, lady. (Yes, I call myself lady.) You sure you're ready to hurt for 70.3 miles? That was just 13.1 and you didn't handle it all that well, ya know?

Maybe you should just stick to the short stuff? You know, 5k's and 10k's and sprints and Oly's. Leave the longer stuff to the people that are good at it. Not you.

It's like an infection.

It is spreading now. Making my legs tired and my mind weak.

The only cure I know is more racing. And good racing. Smart racing. Fast racing.

I plan on starting myself slowly on a therapy of "following training peaks to a tee" and "not wussing out during any of my key runs and bikes".

That should kick it. No doubt.

ING Half Marathon Race Report

This is my third time racing the ING half course.

2007 was just a training run for Ironman. I didn't race it, ran with Mike's family, had fun, enjoyed it. 1:47

2009 it was an "A" race for me. My first big post Alice race back. I struggled. Just not my day. 1:41

2010...third time was NOT the charm. I was hoping for under 1:40 and was going to do my best to hang on to 7:20's for a 1:36.

I was a little off. 1:51

Wowza.

All was good until Mile 9. I was pushing up the hills and recovering on the downhills, per Jen's instructions on "how to run even splits on a hilly course." It was not feeling easy or effortless, but I was hanging in there. Each hill push was accompanied by the all too familiar "I am going to puke" feeling that I get at the end of 5 and 10k's. When I cannot go any harder. And I am sprinting. All out.

I was not going that hard.

I was not sprinting.

Yet, I was puking.

Exited Piedmont Park and hurled all over the sidewalk. And again. And again.

Yes, I was that person on Sunday.

My mile splits were no longer even. Mile 9? A blistering 11:33. Zoom.

And now my shoes had vanilla powergel puke on them. Which, sadly, does provide any additional energy to your feet.

The 4.1 miles to the finish was a long, slow, spectacular KA-BOOM! I was hoping to rally and feel better after the show I put on at mile 9.

Nope.

Not today. Not this year. Not on this course.

EffING ING.

Next year you're mine.

(The appearance of a fever yesterday and the reappearance of my breakfast this morning could not have been more welcome. Yay for a stomach virus. Yay for puking. Anything that could reasonably explain the disaster that was my race was much welcomed.)

Icrazy

My ever present to do list is way too long for my lazy self this week.

I am such a list nerd, I make one daily and one for the week and then happily (geekily?) check stuff off as it gets done. (Admission...sometimes, I even add something to the list that is already done and not on there, just to add it, then check it off. Ah...the satisfaction, then the shame. I mean, who does that?!?)

Does my nerdiness know no bounds?

My penchant for uber organization took a hard hit last week.

My iphone apparently had enough of ifart, syrupy kid fingers, getting dropped 348 times, and playing the soundtrack to "Annie" over and over. It committed isuicide. In a puddle. Just jumped out of my pocket. Ended it all.

I thought I would be fine with a regular phone. I tried.

A no frills Samsung just wouldn't cut it. I couldn't even bring myself to charge the the thing. It would be like claiming ownership. Which I clearly was not ready to do.."YOU ARE NOT MY PHONE. YOU SUCK SO BAD, I BET YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO TEXT." I hissed at the poor little guy.

Less than 24 hours later, I was still lost. I couldn't call anyone to help. (My iphone did all the phone number remembering for me). I didn't know what to do. (That is ical's job to tell me my schedule.) I couldn't even play The Smiths to help deepen my depression. (My iphone IS my ipod. Waah.)

I'd had enough. Apple Store here I come. Watch out you mac geeks....someone had better have my isanity ready for me, momma needs her fix of apps, visual voicemail, internet, email at my fingertips. STAT.

Seriously, until it was gone...I had no idea how much I relied on that thing.

Embarrassingly sad, I'll admit.

Some pics of the girls and spring, neither sad nor embarrassing. (And taken with my super useful new iphone!)



"I picked these flowers (weeds) for my dad."


Babe Ruth?

Zone 0

*Zones one through five all hurt.

(*Heart rate zones, for those of you who are not triathlon nerds. This means you, mom.)

On some level, they are all uncomfortable. (Okay, maybe not Z1, but honestly, when does a Z1 run ever appear in training peaks?)

Jen's article got me thinking.

Thinking about a few things...

Like, I definitely have the right coach for me. Amazing, considering the little to no research I did before contacting Jen last March for coaching. I liked her blog. That was reason enough for me at the time. I wish all my impulse based decisions worked out that well. Eating half a bowl of brownie batter last weekend, another example of my snap second decision making abilities.

You can't win 'em all.

But, anyway, I was talking about HR Zones, how they hurt and stuff.

Jen's article got me thinking about downtime. How we relax. Decompress. Zone out.

Zone 0

My Z0 consists of lots of things...things I love, things that allow my head and body to rest. An exhausting hobby + motherhood demands some downtime. Therefore, most Z0 activities take place with the computer on my blanket covered lap, butt firmly planted on the couch.

Facebook...I love my FB. Love it. I am so not a phone person, but like to keep in touch, so this works much better for me.

Blog reading.

Blog writing (although, I do feel a bit devoid of inspiration lately. Kind of explains the meager posting as of late.)

Athleta/Title Nine/Lululemon online drooling/shopping.

Design magazine buying/tearing out pages of what I like. Funny, never really interested me before we bought the new house. Now I am borderline obsessed. The "Cottage Styles" and "Traditional Homes" might now outnumber the "US Weeklies" and "Triahtlons". Weird.

Reading -- this is strictly a before bed Z0 activity. Reading makes me sleep. Could use some suggestions as I am re-reading "Midwives" by Chris Bohjalian for the 3rd time right now, just because it was there.

Baking -- cookies, brownies, cakes, muffins, etc. Love it all. Mike really hampers me here since all he ever wants is chocolate chip cookies. Even for his birthday. No cake, just cookies. Weird.

Ahh....Zone 0. I am feeling more relaxed already.

Some pics of the girls.

E and her latest "As Seen on TV" acquisition. The Egg Cracker. (I had no idea that cracking eggs was such a difficult task in the first place...)


And Alice who is severely offended by the chocolate drool on her foot. That came from her mouth.